The Adventure of the Sentient Snow
by Drake Brecht
Summary: A year after Sherlock Holmes' death at the Reichenbach Falls, Watson becomes involved in a most unusual case, involving the death of a governess at a mansion pond. The death is in-fact linked with an invasion of sentient ice, which 'The Doctor' is investigating. Soon, the two become involved with a full-scale snow invasion. But beneath it all, an old enemy is re-emerging...
1. The Doctor

"_The Adventure of the Sentient Snow_"

By Dr. John Watson, M.D.

Chapter I: The Doctor

I recall that the winter of 1892 was one much colder than those to which I was accustomed. There had been an even greater abundance of snow than usual, and it was this fact that would lay the foundations to the adventure I was about to have. Little did I know it, but my life was about to reach it pinacle.

I must say, I have not picked-up my pen since the most tragic death of my greatest friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Though it is now over a year since he left us, I fear his memory may be becoming impeached by what has happened lately. It is this development that has put me in the position in which I need to recall the events before I no longer can.

On 23rd December 1892, I returned from the courthouse after a long and arduous case. The governess of the Montague mansion had been missing for some time, however, Inspector Lestrade concluded that the cause of death was drowning in the pond, which had been frozen-over the day the snow began to fall. I tell you this, because the snow had fallen over a year ago and had not stopped since. It must have been shortly after arriving home from Switzerland, where Holmes finally disposed of the greatest criminal mastermind of all time, that the snow began to fall. I believe it was 1st October. This information is the kind of trivia Holmes himself would keep, but I've felt somewhat of a responsibility to update his weather logs whenever I can. They have been of use in some of our many cases. I've done so with the belief that one day, it will be of use to me again. It was this case that brought to mind these books, and thusly I set-about home as soon as I could to gather further evidence that may help solve this case. It was in doing so that I first met the man who called himself "The Doctor".

As I was returning home, I felt the strangest of sensations. It was as though something was speaking to me without using words, but pulling on the strings of my mind. Coaxing me to enter the alleyway I was passing at the time. I am not a weak-minded man, but it was this persuasion that convinced me to do as I wanted; not because I had given-into its temptation, but because I intended to find what it was that was trying to do so. It was to my great surprise that I found what appeared to be a snowman. It was like any other snowman one may find at any other Christmas, but this particular instance of such a thing had sharply-formed teeth, as though twisted or created by a psychopath. As I grew nearer, the snowman itself began to grow higher, as though my proximity to it were a food source. At the time, this seemed to explain the the feeling deep within my head. Like my brain were being strained or wrung-out. It is as this moment that "The Doctor" appeared.

"That's new..." he said, as I turned around to see him for the very first time. He was dressed quite ordinarily, like a regular, wealthy gentleman, but with deep strokes of purple, like the king of a faraway land, and a slanted hat that had an eccentricity all on its own. "You should get back..." He always abandoned the ends of his sentences, as-if leaving us intrigued as to his identity. For some reason, he invested a sense of trust, and I found that I gladly did so and slowly backed-away from the creature, whatever it was.

At this point, the man took from his pocket an implement or tool, made of metal and gold, with a green light at the end. Truly, he was of wealth, yet I had never heard of him in the Strand or anywhere. As though he were a ghost. "Fascinating!" he proclaimed, the danger arousing his adventurous nature. But this face soon turned to one of dread, and he grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me toward him. "The snow is feeding of your thoughts!" Though I understood nothing of what had begun to envelope my person, I found that the adventure that had found me was begging me to be a part of it, like the old days. It sounds silly, but this man reminded me of Sherlock Holmes.

He began to approach the Snowman very carefully. "What is that?" he questioned to himself. What did I not yet know was whether his intentions were of genuine detection or of chauvinism. He seemed to have forgotten me instantly, as he was now trying to figure-out the situation on his own. It is what happened next that was quite uncanny. As I have mentioned, the Doctor's personality was very Holmesian, and thus memories of our past adventures began to fill my mind, and I remembered everything. Every bow, every chase and every deduction, the entire canon of our relationship coming to the front of my mind. By this time, the Doctor was shaking his device, with a definite feeling of frustration. Then I came to end of my journey, as I remembered the terrible day Holmes fell. His battle with Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls. That terrible day, when I read his letter. But, most importantly, of that day, the single worst part of it was the deadly symbolism posed by the falls. So much water flooding down from the mountain side, and into the abyss below. It filled me with dread, and it was this feeling that struck a killing blow to the Snowman, as it exploded into fragments, the water like fire from a gas pipe. This must have been to the Doctor's surprise, as he turned to me with a face of mixed feeling. I personally think he was both impressed and surprised. "You...pictured them melting?" he asked me. "How did you think of that? Nobody could have thought of that. I was about to tell you to do it, but you did it before I had the chance?" he left a short pause. "...who are you?" He was finally ending his sentences.

I stuck out my arm to shake his hand. "Watson. Doctor John Watson."

His face took an even more emotionally-mixed turn. "Doctor Watson? Thank you! Thank you, Doctor Watson!" And with that, he simply walked-away, through the pool left by the Snowman, into the darkness.

But I was not prepared to let our encounter mean nothing. And thusly, I followed him.

It was in following 'the Doctor' that my adventure truly began. As he vacated the vicinity by cab, I instinctively followed him. For a start, he seemed to have the explanation of the events that had just occurred, and I therefore was not prepared to simply let this not be given. Secondly, and foremostly, his reaction to the discovery of my identity was something of surprise. In his eyes, I was of some significance, and therefore it was only my right to know what this was. Clearly, these were the reasons that he had attempted to leave so quickly, as if to somehow not become involved with my person, as these were the worries I overheard when eavesdropping, as I listened in from the roof of his carriage, his driver cloaked.

He was speaking down the telephone to someone unbeknown to me about the events that just taken place.

"Yes...the snow's alive. It's psychic, it feeds off the thoughts of anyone around it...well, maybe. Yes...don't worry, I didn't do anything...he's not going to follow me, I didn't even give him the words "the Doctor"...trust me...no I'm through with that, now...it's not as if..." but I'd heard enough. Clearly, this "Doctor", whoever he was, had become used to losing people, hence his avoidance of myself.

Now, I myself had often been involved in thrilling chases through London, as you may know from my accounts of previous adventures and cases. Such it was that Mr. Holmes often used to surprise his enemies by revealing himself to them during these situations, in-order to discover what their face looked-like when they weren't attempting to conceal the truth. I had previously engaged myself with his methods, and had many times tried to practice them. Honestly, I can say I didn't expect to get a better shot than this at firing my intelligently-chosen timings at him from the barrel of my mind.

And so, opening the roof of the cab in a flash, I lowered myself down, before lightly jumping to the floor. Into his shocked face I posed the question "The Doctor...Doctor Who?"


	2. The Henchman

Chapter II: The Henchman

Eventually, our carriage came to a halt in a back-area of London, where nobody else could see. The Doctor had been explaining to me how these monstrous Snowmen worked.

"They were feeding off your thoughts. Using your feelings to create a corporeal form for themselves. Very interesting."

The Doctor clambered out of his seat and, through the carriage door, exited to the outside world. I would have followed him, but he slammed the door in my face, trapping me inside. It was a short while before he returned, and when he did, he was flanked by a goon. He was a bulky man, suffering from dwarfism. His accent was one of pidgin English, as he openly expressed his resentment to all other forms of life. I didn't like the look of him. Not at all I didn't. He had a face like the wrath of God. Or should I say the Devil? His eyes hid within an evil that wanted to unleash itself, which matched his physical appearance. He was tanned, and deeply worked-out, like someone who engages in physical practice toward a punching bag when not doing so to a person. I expected he was from somewhere in the colonies, or the subcontinent. He didn't speak unless he had an absolute reason to do so.

"I'm afraid you're going to forget everything", said the Doctor again. Though he seemed empathetic, I couldn't help but think that his motivations were as sinister as everything else I had encountered that night. "I'm sorry. But if you remember any of this, then..." The end of his sentence trailed-off again, as though he couldn't quite bring himself to say what he wanted to say.

I protested. "But..."

"Quiet, boy!" the henchman blurted.

"Whoa, there! Calm down, Strax." 'the Doctor' intervened, confirming the name of his associate.

Strax, who would be much-better suited to a suit of cloth than a suit of armour seemed to be 'the Doctor''s personal slave. And this reminded me. I had one last card to play with this man's mind. Something he couldn't resist. I may not be the Great Sherlock Holmes, God rest his soul, but even I was able tell how one would be able to play with this man's mind. There were things he did not want to say. He didn't enjoy becoming attached to others, and he certainly didn't want to reveal to me the significance of my being.

"I intrigue you." This struck a chord with him, and he tilted his head, taking-off his round pair of spectacles.

"You're very clever, John. You faced those creatures as if you knew how..."

My plan had worked, and I jumped on it like a fox to a rabbit.

"Well, I learnt from the best."

As I expected, 'the Doctor' was finally convinced of my mysteriousness. Sometimes, I think he's just easily amused.

"And just who might that be?" asked 'the Doctor' back at me.

Time for the killing blow.

"An old friend. He's gone now."

The Doctor removed his spectacles. "Goodnight, John." And he strode-off into the night, as he shouted a command to the dwarf. "Mr. Watson will be going home, now."

"Yessir" called a voice from above. It was Strax.

As the carriage was picking-up speed, I finally stepped-down onto the snowy ground, unbeknowest to Strax. The Doctor was silently walking-away, putting me out of his mind.

I followed once more.


	3. A Cloud in the Sky

Chapter III: "A Cloud in the Sky"

Eventually, we were out in the open. Strolling through the park, as I recall. The snow had settled now, as the Doctor's whistling echoed around the local area. He was walking particularly slowly, and his tune, Silent Night, had an air of suspicious, exciting irony.

He stopped.

Without any break in the already intriguing behaviour in the chilled air around him, he stretched himself, arms in the air, as if exercising. But he wasn't. I knew that. Mostly from the moment when he pulled-down a ladder from out of nowhere. He was something quite different. When I first met my dear departed friend Mr. Holmes, I had a similar feeling about him too. The mysterious atmosphere that only a man with no friends can give.

He began to climb the ladder, and disappeared into the night. I had not come this far to miss out on the opportunity. Mr. Holmes would not be proud if I did. So, just as he'd taught me, I continued to follow 'the Doctor' up into the sky.

Eventually, the ladder became a spiral staircase, breaking-through the clouds and rising above London. It was from here that I could see some very familiar sights from previous adventures of mine. There was Scotland Yard, Holmes and I had often been summoned there many a time; the bank where we had assisted in the prevention of the gold heist of the century. Then there was 221b, where Mr. Holmes spent his days. I had moved-out after my marriage. That was something to be remembered. My wife. She had no idea what had happened. I was on my way home when I met those snowman creatures. I could only hope this adventure was over by tonight, when I could return.

I became somewhat melancholy about the whole thing. My marriage, Mr. Holmes, London. Seeing it from above. I now found myself on a cloud, at the top of the stair well. That's when I saw it. It looked not dissimilar to how I imagine a police box might look. I'd heard of them in Newcastle and Sunderland. Tall boxes, which could be used to telephone the local police station. What a strange notion that such a structure should be atop a cloud, to be reached by a ladder and stairs, up-which had climbed my new person of interest, 'the Doctor'. The only possibility is that he would be inside the police box. It wasn't connected to anything, unless it was through the floor. It should have been on the streets. 'The Doctor' was a mystery, and one that I was determined to solve independently, to prove Mr. Holmes' death had not been for nothing.

As I approached closer, I heard a low frequency vibration resonating from the police box. This made perfect sense, in a way, when I touched my hand against it and felt a faint vibration. It was alive!

In spite of this strange discovery, I had collected all the evidence I needed. I had eliminated the impossible: 'the Doctor' hadn't climbed back down, as there was only one staircase and I was following him all the way up it. He hadn't reached the top and jumped, as I would have seen him. The ladder didn't ascend any further, as there were no more clouds above me. The only remaining possibility is that he was inside the police box. Know why I did not, and I didn't intend to. I needed to form a rational conclusion before proceeding any further. I may have applied Mr. Holmes' methods, but I was not as standardised as he was. So I retreated down to firm ground to collect my thoughts - and myself. I would investigate further in the morning.


	4. An Unexpected Development

Chapter IV: "An Unexpected Development"

The following morning, as I was intending to follow-up the strange case that had befallen me of late, Inspector Lestrade called me with a matter of some urgency. It was believed the governess I had mentioned earlier had in-fact drowned in the pond by the house she had been serving. The Montague mansion - which I refer to by the name of its replacement governess - was clearly my next stage to uncovering the mystery. But little did I know that the two cases that had creeped-up on me were inextricably linked. It was because of this that Inspector Lestrade would be disappointed to learn that I was in-fact retiring from my occupation as a police surgeon. The reasons for this were of great simplicity, and one which I cannot claim to have been less complicated.

I have already mentioned that the previous governess had died in the pond of the mansion. Well, it so happened that this pond was now frozen-over. Completely. I had examined it that same day with Lestrade. My hand had touched it, and the ice began to grow. Only this time, I was able to recognise the feeling of it feeding from my thoughts. It was at this moment that my detective's instincts had been confirmed: these two adventures were now blending together. I had surprised myself with how well I'd been able to apply Mr. Holmes' methods. He would be proud. Plus, I was gleeful at the devastating coincidence of the Snow being unfortunate have given me prior knowledge of them. And to a detective, too. It may have been impulsive, but I just felt I had to do it. I couldn't stop myself. Retrospectively, I think I'd realised that Scotland Yard were dealing with something nobody understood. That, and the way the Snow had brought me into 'the Doctor''s life. Without doubt, my destiny lay with him, not with Earth. And so I resigned. Right there.

It's as though I understood everything. The Doctor. The travelling man. Miserable and disconnected. But I'd crossed his path. On that lonely night. Upon that cloud. Think of the stories that I could have told.


	5. Mrs Sherlock Holmes

Chapter V: "Mrs. Sherlock Holmes"

I was ready to begin my wonderful adventures with the Doctor. But first came the task of finding him. Only he could solve this. I had been destined to be with Mr. Holmes, but now I have found an even greater man. I don't deny that. Mr. Holmes was only Human. Honestly, I don't know if the same can be said for 'the Doctor'. And it is with this positive mindset that I set-upon finding him. But it was quite obvious where to look for him: the last place I'd seen him. Choosing to run away from Lestrade, I arrived at that same park I had seen him stride through only yesterday. It was a tough effort, but I managed to find the same spot where I'd been when the ladder began. It was purely from memory, but I was proud that I'd managed to do so. Or, at least, I thought I had, as I never got the chance to test this. I couldn't reach the ladder, myself, so I tried calling up, with cries of "Doctor!". I'd have preferred not to, as it did attract something of attention toward me. And mostly, because I was taken from the park by a new character in this tale.

Her name is Jenny Flint, apparently. Early twenties. She knew the Doctor, as did her Madame, Vastra. It falls to me now to tell you that Vastra is definitely the strangest case I've encountered. Indeed, this is the most intriguing aspect of this adventure.

'Madame' Vastra is not Human. Instead she is lizard woman from the dawn of time. And is married to Jenny. And that's all I'll say of the matter. According to Vastra, her species, the Silurians (scientifically known as homo reptilia) occupied this planet thousands of years before Humanity. But they went into hibernation to avoid their vision of the Apocalypse, which was in-fact the Moon beginning to orbit the Earth. She was awoken by the construction of the Underground, and now lives at 13 Paternosta Row with her...wife, Jenny. This would make her at least one and a half million years old, by my calculations. (Not Mr. Holmes', who has a practical, but limited, knowledge of geology.)

They had become aware of my association with the Doctor and Ms. Flint had finally found me. Vastra needed the information I'd acquired to further her own investigation. The Doctor didn't help people. According to Vastra, he'd retired after losing his closest friend. They helped him, but weren't satisfied with his current apathy. The three of them had become a consulting detective agency all on their own. The three of them being Vastra, Ms. Flint and Strax, the stubby henchmen from the cab during my first encounter with the Doctor, who was now distancing himself from any future relationships.

Vastra was a deep green colour, with scales. How you might expect a lizard woman to look. Over the years, I've encountered many strange things that first seemed unexplained. But as a person already familiar with the Snowmen, nothing new could surprise me. Not at this point, anyway.

But this is where our narrative takes a - shall we say..."mysterious"? - turn. I told Vastra my name, John Watson, and her face clearly was taken-aback. She tried to hide it, I could tell. But Mr. Holmes' effect had rubbed-off on me. I knew. I just knew. For some reason, I was significant. At this stage, I was not prepared to wonder why. One question at a time. It was, I'll admit, an extra potential case, but it was something I'd save for later. Once this adventure had ended, then I could ponder the extra threads.

Her methods were different to others I'd seen. She gave me the one word test; asking me a question in exchange for one word as my answer. She believes truth is singular, whereas lies are infinite. She impressed me very much, it was a joy to watch her at work. I could tell she knew this, though it was probably in a way that wasn't good. Then she asked me to ask the Doctor why he should help me, in a single word. I honestly believe this was my greatest challenge I've faced as an amateur detective.

But I ultimately did find the word. I knew, if I could create a vague, yet intriguing reason for him to investigate the pond, he'd understand what was going-on. Thusly, that is the word I chose:

pond.


	6. A Great Intelligence

Chapter VI: "A Great Intelligence"

And so, we reach the end of our story. But not before I tell you its final part. With 'the Doctor' now convinced of a good reason to help me investigate this case, we were now finally together. And I for one was most certainly ready - he was far greater than Mr. Holmes, and all I needed to do was to discover the truth about him to begin our adventure. Likewise, we began our investigation into the mysterious, sentient snow in the vicinity of the Montague Mansion.

Lestrade began making his usual inquiry, while I...investigated. I shouldn't technically have been there, but then again, I had several theories about 'the Doctor' that, if true, would have given me a higher authority to do so. Though I was not sure my theories were correct, my experiences with Mr. Holmes had changed me to the point that I now believe a detective's natural instinct should be considered an authority to the head, and most undeniably the heart. Holmes had helped me find my heart. And it was because of this that I now intruded upon the house in order to investigate this scientific impossibility.

I'd followed my orders precisely as instructed, and found my way into the house's laboratory. I do not regret to admit that I was apprehended by the resident doctor's henchmen, as it helped me discover a fascinating, if tangential, lead: Dr. Simeon believed me to be a work of fiction. He himself was of a hideous countenance. With a miserable face, and a slither of ice in his heart. If I'd known better, I would have mistaken him for something of an Ebenezer Scrooge.

The machine in the middle of the room was a remarkable invention: electricity whizzed and banged, with a huge glass dome in the centre, filled with snow. Like an ordinary snowglobe, if it were electrical. But anyway, upon breaking-in, I was apprehended and questioned. Not just of my credentials, intentions and associations, but of my very existence. Honestly, it's something I still don't understand.

But the mystery of this was increased exponentially by what happened next: there was a knock at the door. I was hidden-away in a cupboard, while they let in the man at the door. It could hear him well-enough. It was 'the Doctor', as I'd expected.

"Ah, yers! Nice office, big Globey Thing!", began the Doctor, as he strode inward, at the sound of footsteps approaching the cupboard that pressed-against my face.

"I enjoy 'The Strand' magazine as much as the next man, but I am quite aware that Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character."

And that is when I began to panic. 'The Doctor' was impersonating Sherlock Holmes, whom he believed, with Dr. Simeon, to be not real. It's at this moment that I realised why he wanted to be associated with me - he was investigating how I could be alive.

"This is your business card - it says so on the front!"

"What are you doing here?"  
"This!" cried the Doctor. "Wakey wakey!" This was followed by the sound of many large, singular clangs, presumably on the snow globe in the middle of the room.

And now, yet another character enters the equation.

"We are The Intelligence" uttered a deep, protruding voice. I could tell purely from this they were in-fact Dr. Simeon's masters, not servants.

"Ooh, talking snow! I love new things."

"You are not of this world?" asked The Intelligence.

"Takes one to snow one!" laughed 'The Doctor'. And just like that, I knew. I knew he wasn't lying, because he didn't know I was listening-in. I had discovered his secret, which also confirmed the higher authority I had suspected. "Let's see...multi-nuclear, crystalline organism, with the ability to mimic what it finds. Looks like snow, isn't snow." I must say, I'd missed this.

"You must leave here now," declared Dr. Simeon, but 'The Doctor' reacted cleverly.

"Shut up, I'm making deductions, it's very exciting!" And it was. Exciting to hear him deduce, mimicking my 'lost' friend, Mr. Holmes, but also painful for him to do so, knowing he was impersonating a character from a book. "What are you? A flock of space crystals? A swarm? The snowmen are foot-soldiers, mindless predators. But you, you're the clever one, you're Moriarty." That was what caused the greatest pain. He knew of Mr. Holmes' death, he knew of Moriarty. He knew the whole story. And he hadn't tried to help me.

It brought to mind several existential discussions. How had he come-into my story? Had I come-out of mine? What is my story? Is it my diary entries? If so, since what point? Perhaps a third-person narrative from an omnipresent narrator? Who was the author?, etc.

His monologue went on for a while, but then, the truth of the matter emerged: the Snowmen weren't enough to take-over, The Intelligence needed a sample of Human DNA in ice form to evolve. And that's how 'The Doctor' worked-out that the frozen governess was now an ice lady, the template for the future of Humankind, in The Intelligence's eyes.

After this, while I was still in the cupboard, 'The Doctor' destroyed the snow globe, which then proceeded to drive Dr. Simeon's body, like a carriage. Except...this is where it gets interesting. It turns-out, the snow fell to this planet naturally, from space. And, during the winter, it froze where it had fallen. One of those places was the Reichenbach Falls, where Mr. Holmes and Prof. Moriarty had fought each-other and lost to the elements. But it appeared that the ice freezing-over that place had somehow brought the Professor back to life, in a mental form, slowly commanding the Dr, Simeon. And this could only mean that Mr. Holmes may too have been resurrected from that abyss.

The main clue as to his true identity arose when the Doctor, having banged-away at the sphere for some time, made a crack, which shout-out toward Dr. Simeon and took over his body.

"You underestimate the power of your words, Doctor! For I really am Moriarty!"

I...could not take it any more. Moriarty's apparent return, 'the Doctor''s impersonation of Mr. Holmes, etc. I became what I suppose was too emotional. And...I shed a few tears. Incidentally, both Prof. Moriarty and Mr. Holmes proved to me that the loss of a friend is far more a powerful feeling than the anger of the villain who killed him.

This next bit is my favourite part. Of everything I have described to you today, what happened next may not have been the most exciting, mysterious, or intriguing, but it was most definitely the most miraculous.

The Intelligence had grown strong over Dr. Simeon pouring his feelings into it. He's an extremely sociopathic person, but I believe he could have been saved if someone would simply open-up to him. But The Intelligence had grown so strong that it had taken-over him. My strong emotional reaction to recent events had been a dominating force in the presence of it.

Once 'The Doctor' had rescued me from the cupboard, he explained that a sadness of that strength had been enough to reduce the Snow to water. It had lost its host, and I had been the next-nearest Human. My current psychological state had liquidised it.

Once the ordeal was over, 'The Doctor' had walked with my through London. He me offered a place in his police box, that it travelled through space and time. I politely declined. I explained to him that if Moriarty had been brought back to life by the Snow, then perhaps Mr. Holmes had been to. The Professor may have been defeated a second time, on this occasion by myself, and although 'The Doctor' may have been the most remarkable man I'd ever met, but there was now hope that Holmes had lived. If I could find him, I could help him.

While 'The Doctor' was saddened that I'd chosen against becoming his new travelling companion, I explained my reasoning. He seemed intrigued by me, as though trying to discover some secret information. I still only mostly trust him.

We shook hands at our goodbye, and the snow began to fall. According to 'The Doctor', it was actually a result of the liquidation process completing and dissipating into the atmosphere. He also explained that "The Intelligence" that been the collective consciousness of Moriarty being used as an energy source for each individual of the Snow. They had done nothing more but feed from his soul. Moriarty was as dead as a doornail. But, he stepped inside his police box, and I swear to you, loyal readers, that what happened next is the honest truth.

That police box simply disappeared. There was a soft, but echoing "bong" sound. It began to glow a golden colour, becoming transparent, phasing in and out again, before the bright lamp atop itself filled the area around it with light, and it dissolved from existence.

Now I had no doubt whatsoever. He really was a traveller in space and time. And now that I knew that, I realised anything was possible. And that meant Holmes really was alive. And it was my job to find him.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

At the mansion, Dr. Simeon lay dead on the floor. But it was of course, not Dr. Simeon. It was merely Dr. Simeon's body, that had been used as a host by the soul - all that was left of another's body - of Professor Moriarty. It was, in a sense, Moriarty's body using an alias.

A figure approached it. Someone who was equal in villainy to Moriarty himself. The cells of his own body were breaking-down, releasing tiny packets of golden energy. Microscopic strands of DNA, stringed together, freeing itself of the main body. The particles unlocked.

The figure knelt down by Moriarty, his eyes glowing with that same energy.

****"A new body...at last..."


End file.
